Hello
by MagicMokona
Summary: In the near future, a project is launched to turn Hatsune Miku into real idol, combining holographic and A.I. technology. An ex-idol, now a manager, is tasked to oversee her incursion into the real world. But, how does one manage what is nothing more than a program, made to resemble human behavior? A cyberpunk-laced tale of the vocaloïd phenomenon.
1. Chapter 1

**~Hel~lo~**

**Chapter 1**

Haruka Ooshima entered the office of her boss, Hiroshi Tachibana. Or, as she often called him behind his back, "Gacha-Gacha", in reference to these old vending machines she used to favour as a child. As usual, and quite fittingly, she had no idea why she was called to this meeting. And, as usual, she knew it would be a tense exercise of dreary negotiation. Good old Tachibana was a resourceful businessman and a fair boss, but he was terribly old fashioned in his methods. Hierarchy, for him, was of paramount importance, and this often led their viewpoints to clash with disastrous results. Yet, she loved her job – managing idols, showing the way to stardom to aspiring young artists - and couldn't imagine doing anything else. Over the years, she developed a sort of understanding with her boss, a strained, complicated relationship, which amounted to the following mantra: you stay out of the creative side of things, and I'll stay out of the business one. This meeting, however, looked like trouble.

As she entered the office, the scent of his favourite cigarette, which usually pervaded the place, made her tense up and quickly review her appearance. Blue, formal blouse which is, of course, unbuttoned just right? Check. Dark, slim jacket? Check. Matching skirt? Check. Heavenly smile? Check as well. This was nothing for Haruka, at least compared to the old days of idoldom. 'Being cute and happy all the time, now *that* was a challenge', her mind wandered with a hint of irony, 'At least I haven't aged that bad, for a forty year old'. By that, she meant that she did not use that much makeup to hide her wrinkles.

The office was as familiar as ever, with its dark-blue carpet and mahogany desk. On the top of it was a collection of pictures of his family – mainly, his wife. Sitting in front of the desk, in an expensive-looking leather office chair, was Hiroshi Tachibana. While the recent graying-out of his hair gave him a somewhat experienced and weathered look, his polite mannerisms and reserved gesture, which tended to appease his employees before he settled them out with some surprise impossible task, have been there since their first meeting. And, as usual, in his fingers he was clutching one of these stinking brown cigarettes.

Next to him, sitting in another chair, was someone new, Haruka noticed. This was a younger man, maybe in his thirties, with short, black hair; he was sharply dressed, with a blue suit and a dark red tie. She gave him a once-over, and found him not without charm. His eyes betrayed a sort of passion she only saw in those who enjoyed their work. Yet, his face was unknown to her; that made her alert: _who was_ this guy? Was she too washed-up to keep up with the times? Or did Gacha-Gacha find some new venture? Bending politely before the two businessmen, she felt uncomfortable. The smoke pervading the office, bending and weaving, seemed to her like a sort of faceless monster, ready to snatch her away.

"Ah, Miss Ooshima !" Gacha-Gacha rose from his chair and returned her respects, and then turned towards the newcomer. "I believe you have not been introduced to our new partner, Mr. Ebihara."

Likewise, the young man stood up, bowed, and looked at her. He spoke in a deeply respectful tone. "It is a delight to make your acquaintance, Miss Ooshima." He looked at her eyes, his voice becoming a bit warmer. "If I may confess, your singing career has been a great source of inspiration to our business, and to me as a person."

"Oh. Thank you." He seemed sincere, and Haruka, somewhat taken aback, was stroking her neck. While she was faithful to her husband on principle, a little compliment here and there always made her feel warm inside.

"Well then, why don't you take a seat?" The soft, yet commanding tone of Mr. Tachibana soon made her come back to a more businesslike mood. They all sat down, and the meeting started.

"Mr. Ebihara here is the Vice President of the Crypton Media Initiative, which sprung up from Crypton Inc. Miss Ooshima, I suppose you know of their main product, Hatsune Miku?"

She nodded. She had indeed heard of this so-called idol. Yes, some songs of hers were catchy, but Miku's artificial voice turned her off from the whole thing altogether.

"You mean that CG cartoon character? Yes. But I don't see…"

The younger man, seeing her discontent, spoke, his eyes gleaming. "Miss Oozaki, she's not merely a cartoon character. Yes, using a CG singer is nothing new, but Miku is unique in the way that she is *nothing* more than a voice synthesizing software. Her songs, even her attitude, came from her fans on the Internet, and not from any corporate agency. Quite frankly, I think she might just be *the* with which everyone can identify. As an idol, too, she's perfect: you'll agree that idol managing is time consuming. You have to deal with the training and supervision of hundreds of young girls, all competing to become the next big star. We, also, have to cater to the different tastes of the public. Miku solves everything. Everyone – anyone who wants to be heard can use her program, and spread their message through her. And she's obedient and faceless. I'd say she is like… a revolution in the business."

Haruka nodded again, disappointed. So this young man produces a fake singing girl. A shame. Not noticing her disinterest, he continued.

"Until now, we've managed to make some concerts using holographic footage of her. But now, our company feels that, with the recent advances in that field and in AI technology, it is time to give Hatsune Miku a real place in this world as an artist."

Her face darkned. She spoke dryly. "What do you mean?"

Gacha-Gacha, looking tenser judging from her reaction, took the question. "We will be joining forces with Crypton MI to give Hatsune Miku a real existence. She will train daily, give interviews, and function much like any idol in the business."

Haruka blinked, dumbfounded. "But—that's impossible! Isn't she a computer program? How can she give out interviews if she has no mind?"

"Indeed." the younger man answered, while Gacha Gacha looked away, somehow disinterested by the technical details, "Most of her appearances and mannerisms will be scripted. However, we noticed in our previous concerts that giving her just a touch of humanity – like when we made her sigh during that sad song about lost love – can have a powerful effect upon the audience. To replicate these moments, we has developed the "IM" or "Inner Mind" routine. This means that, when she is not under a particular script, she will function using an adaptive, self actualizing artificial intelligence. This will allow her to react to unexpected events and to learn new concepts."

"And that's where we come in." The older man chimed in, wanting to his voice heard among the technobabble, "If Crypton is to create Hatsune Miku as a permanent idol, she will need a talented manager, which we will provide. As one of the most popular singers of the past, you know that world better than anyone on our team. That is why I am asking you to work on this project and manage Hatsune Miku."

She had expected this, but the news still surprised her. "W-what? But she's- nothing! What can I possibly add to-?"

Beaming with pride, Ebihara flashed a confident smile at her. "Ah! I know it must be surprising. But we've conducted some tests already. And, well, sometimes Miku tends to be too perfect, too artificial. She doesn't make mistakes, her moves tend to be robotic, and, when speaking, she can get a bit too awkward. Yes, I fear the IM system isn't very developed yet, probably by lack of experience. As a longtime follower of your career, I know you poured all of your passion into your songs…. And your help will be…"

As soon as Haruka heard the word "passion", old memories flashed in front of her eyes. She remembered singing in front of thousands of fans who all came to see her. She remembered her struggles, her fears and doubts as she slowly made her way towards the top of the charts. How much had she cried during these days? It was all worth it. And she was not alone: that same passion, that same longing for success was also in the eyes of her pupils. Managing was them was difficult, as she had to suffer with them through their hard times, but all this was compensated by seeing their smiles, and their eyes sparkling as they sang. All their faces and histories were etched in her memory: Rika, who counted maybe a bit too much, on her the support; Kasumi, who destroyed careers to reach the top; Yuuka, who quit after being caught in an affair. All of them, even with their quirks and failings, were what made her relish her work.

And now, they wanted her to work with an empty-eyed, soulless piece of computer programming? Haruka grew cold, her eyes wandering over the tangling smoke which lingered in the room..

"You do understand, Miss Ooshima, that M. Ebihara specifically asked for your participation as a longtime fan of your career? This is both a great honor and a great opportunity for your career."

She looked at her boss, who had his trademark flush of superiority all over his face. 'You _bastard_' she thought 'you _knew_ I wouldn't agree to this, right? That's why you have that important guy right here: if I refuse, I'll dishonor both myself and the firm, and you'll get the pleasure to demote me to a crappy job. Now… do I love managing so much as to work with some computer crap?'

A few moments passed. The younger man puffed some smoke and casually extinguished his cigarette in a small rectangular ashtray.

"I'll do it, put me on the project."

"Ah, thank you." M. Ebihara beamed with sincere excitement "I'll have you meet her this afternoon".

And that is how Haruka Ooshima, once one of the most famous idols of Japan, came to manage Hatsune Miku.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Usually, when Haruka Ooshima went to the interview room, she was greeted by the fresh, smiling faces of new prospective talents. That very room, with its plush interior, leather seats and its long, shiny black low table, was for her of outmost importance. One quick discussion was enough to ascertain all the necessary qualities of a young candidate: her clothing choices, which ought to be revealing but never outwardly provocative; her attitude, which needed to be sweet and subservient; her gestures, which should always be deliberate; and, most importantly, her eyes. Cute eyes were never enough. Those needed to show an inner strength, to reflect the mind of a tough, passionate soul that is strong enough to endure the harsh reality of idol entertainment. Yes, Haruka nodded to herself, the interview room was a longtime companion, a rite of passage through which dreams were made true – or hopelessly buried under quivering tears. This time, however, was a different story.

Instead of a young girl nervously twiddlingher thumbs or making her feet pitter-patter across the room, the room was occupied by a man, kneeling towards the table and turning his back towards the entrance. He was in his twenties, sporting a white shirt and blue jeans. His black hair fell down on to his lower neck, and looked well kempt, though not exceptionally so. His build was adequate, Haruka tought, especially his buttocks. With a bit of exercise, he might be quite the charmer. Hearing her entering, he greeted her.

"Oh, hey! I'll be right with you!"

Haruka blinked. She was used to deal with businessmen and record sharks. This man… acted rather casually, and reminded her of the fans which came to idol concerts. Nevertheless, she bowed politely, fixing her hair while his gaze was averted, and addressed him.

"Please, do not mind me."

He finished tinkering with what appeared to be a white, large coffee dispenser lying on the table, got up, and turned around to meet her. His face looked young and well-defined, if a bit feminine.

"Nice to meet you, Miss… uh…"

"Ooshima."

"Oh yeah!" he stammered "Sorry for that, 'got carried away with my last minute details. You know, that's the first time we're going to make her meet someone from the outside. Well I guess it'll be okay, I've rechecked the hologram projector, and…". His voice was melodic, yet somewhat hurried and breathless, as if his speech wasn't quite fast enough to catch his thoughts. While talking, he tended to scratch his neck.

"And you are…?"

"Oh! I'm Rei Ito, head of the engineering division at Crypton. I'm the technical supervisor for the Miku project."

He gestured towards the small white coffee thingy, as if that explained everything. Haruka smiled: his casual, matter-of-fact tone was refreshing to see in this company, if a little bit annoying. At least, she felt she could be honest with him. She tried her hand with a little bit of feminine-brand sarcasm.

"So you're the father of the little virtual missy, right?"

His eyes narrowed, sensing her animosity, but he nonetheless answered with unconcealed pride. "Not really. These kinds of projects are collaborative, so I'm not really her *father*. I did participate in the development of most core components, including the IM system. To that extent, I guess I am a bit fond of her, right."

'Attached to a piece of computer programming. Right.' Haruka sighed visibly.

He sighed as well, dropping his head to the side. "Hm. So, you don't like her, I guess? I'm not much of an idol fan, Hatsune Miku excepted, but I've read your file. So I can guess your reasons: she's digital, she's stealing your job, yadda yadda yadda. I'm right, right?"

"Yes." He was only partly right though. To her, it was not about her job, it was about _people_.

He looked at his side and continued. "Can't force you to care for her, can I? You got legitimate reasons not to. But then again, I'll be lending our pride and joy into your hands. With that IM system of artificial intelligence we've given her, she's a lot more than a just a hologram: she can learn, parse responses on the fly, and express original thoughts. She'll need someone like you to be on the right track. Even if she's digital. So, I ask you, please, at least try and give her a good example. Right?"

"Yes. Please, forgive my attitude." Haruka crossed her arms in embarrassment. She felt genuinely bad for her earlier cattiness: Miku's creation was the culmination of this man's career, and he was an agreeable sort of person.

"Thanks." he paced towards white machine. "And who knows? You may just warm up to our little Miku. She's still a bit stilted, still a bit too detached, but she's a cute little singer. Anyway, the projector is ready; I'll start it up in a few seconds. Are you ready?"

Haruka closed her eyes. Now was not the time to be childish. She had to be professional, and nothing more. Her face now tinted with seriousness, she sat in one of the leather chairs in front of the machine. She then crossed her legs, and put a hand on her cheek, waiting.

"I'm ready."

"Oh, just one thing! Her body is a hologram, so if you try to touch her, you'll go right through her. We did try to give some weight to her appearance, so you may feel a small electrical jolt if you make physical contact. As for her, she can sort out and react to external stimuli, but she can't feel pain or anything. So don't fret about hurting her."

"I… see." Somehow, this didn't seem reassuring at all.

Rei Ito entered a sequence of keys into a panel on the outside of the white projector, and the machine whirred, springing to life. Its top opened, revealing a lens which emitted a regular pulsing of colored light. And then, small drops of color started to fall and accumulate on the space next to the table. Bit by bit, this colored rain melded and changed, finally turning into its final form, the virtual idol Hatsune Miku.

Haruka had to avert her gaze. This… thing was terrible to behold, a fleeting shadow of nothingness, given form by light and data. Her aquamarine hair, her fluttery short skirt, her fingers. Every part of Miku assaulted Haruka's senses, forcing her to acknowledge the existence of the unreal. The worst was her eyes. While they looked devoid of life at first glance, their reflection showed traces of unnatural knowledge which danced across her green irises, like code flowing out on a computer screen. This code, Haruka realized, this data, was her lifeblood, what passed for her "mind". As she got used to Miku's sight, she came to accept the paradox made evident in front of her: this girl was currently one of the most famous idols in the country; but, in truth, she was nothing more than a series of perfunctory keystrokes.

The virtual singer made a deep bow before the manager, displaying a perfect mix of cuteness, subservience, and provocation. A computerized, sing-song voice echoed across the room.

"Hel~lo!"

Getting over the shock of the girl's state of existence, Haruka scrutinized her as she would any other idol. Her appearance was, quite frankly, almost perfect. Her aquamarine pigtails almost touched the ground, but were always well groomed and straight: when she bowed, they fell down on her front in a cute, orderly manner, something every girl dreamed of. Her legs were long, slender, and dutifully covered with a pair of black, thigh high socks. That, in turn, led the eyes towards her short, fluttering black skirt which exposed just enough of her thighs to catch the men's attention. 'Yep', the manager was forced to consider, 'the designers sure knew what they did with her'.

This was confirmed by a look at the idol's shape. Miku's belly was perfectly skinny and her hips wide and feminine. 'To think…' she thought to herself 'what we idols go through to get that kind of frame and keep it in line. Hmpf, Miku will never have to worry about eating too much, and she'll never need any kind of exercise. How can real idols even try to compare with that? That's so unfair…'. Her mood lightened up a bit when she gazed upwards. 'But then, why such small breasts? It's, what, a B-cup at most? Must be in response to that _moe _fad we've had these last years. Still, it's a fringe group, and she'd be cuter and more popular with slightly bigger ones. Let's keep this in mind for my report. I'm sure they can change that.'

As she examined the idol's face, a thought crossed her mind. 'Heh. Why would she worry about eating too much anyway? She possibly doesn't even know what food tastes like. She'll also never feel flattered by compliments, or realize why people look at her'. For a moment, Haruka didn't know whether to reject or pity the cute, evanescent figure standing in front of her.

"I am honored to make your acquaintance. I am Hatsune Miku." Her small, synthetic voice echoed across the room.

By now, Haruka realized that Ito was still near the table, and he was staring intently at her. He looked equally anxious –perhaps for her to accept Miku a little bit more – and amused – probably by her surprised reaction. Either way, this put some pressure on her and led her to concentrate solely on her new charge. She got up and bowed formally.

"A pleasure to meet you, Hatsune Miku, I am Haruka Oozaki, your new manager."

"Yes!" Miku beamed, excitedly, "I know about your career, and you have been a big influence on mine. I am glad I have someone like you to work with me!"

Haruka suddenly wondered what kind of information was given to this virtual girl. "You know about me? How come?"

A few seconds of dead air passed as the idol slowly tilted her head on the side, her eyes pulsing with unseen recognition. Her answer came in a less cheery, monotone voice. "I have your career inside my database. You were an idol for a few years. An affair, which made a scandal in the business, interrupted this. You married soon after ." Miku still smiled though.

"What the…"

"Don't worry about this." Ito interrupted casually "Your question wasn't expected, you see, so the IM system kicked in and she generated a response on the fly using her knowledge bank."

"I get that but…" Haruka seemed discontent, her hands flaying with annoyance "Does she need to be so _rude_?"

"Eh, data is data to her. Even with her advanced AI routine, that's the sort of emotional nuance that she's still blind to. Just bear with it, okay? Maybe she'll learn to be more sensitive with your contact."

"Fine, fine". She shrugged her shoulders, and noticed Miku was looking at her again.

"Was my information incorrect? Shall I amend it?"

"No, no, it's all right…" Miku was right, though, she did exchange her career for love. Most of the time, she was content with that choice. But, sometimes, usually when watching her pupil's concerts, she wondered about what her life could have been, had she taken the other path and remained an idol. Miku's curt little _resume_ awakened these dark, annoying thoughts.

Miku smiled more naturally, maybe with the use of a script, and added: "Both you and M. Ito are programmed to be my superiors, so if there's something wrong about my attitude, just tell me, I'll correct it and I won't even get mad!". She waggled her finger for emphasis, just as any good little idol would.

Ito chimed in. "Just to be clear, you have administrative privilege over Miku. She'll follow your every order and consider as truth your every statement". His laid-back attitude subsided for a moment. "That's… quite a huge responsibility, especially for someone who's not a technician. Try to be careful, okay?"

Haruka nodded, and Miku added. "Ah! But Mr. Ito, don't worry! Everything she says will stay in my memory for review anyway, that's what you told me, right?"

"Yeah… that too…"

He looked down. This listener component was a managerial decision he didn't agree to, and that he would have preferred not to talk about too loudly.

"So the girl's a recording device as well." Haruka sighed. "Great."

The ex-idol collected her thoughts once-more, considering the "girl" which stood in front of her. She decided to continue the interview as usual, just as if she was just another hopeful young trainee. If that's what old gatcha-gatcha wanted, that's what he was going to get. Her hand instinctively reaching towards her mouth in annoyance, she spoke again.

"So, tell me, Miku, what's your reason for being an idol?"

The turquoise haired girl smiled cutely, and answered in a sing-song voice. "Being an idol is my whoooole life! I just love to sing, but my heart really warms up when I see all the fans who love my work. I want to be there for them, and put a smile on their face every day!"

Typical PR pap. That's the sort of stuff that old idols, even those that know and hate the job, usually say. But here, something was wrong. Miku seemed genuine, as if she didn't know anything else. This was both curious and frightening.

"Tell me, was your answer scripted?"

The virtual idol tilted her head slightly, again adjusting her attitude to this unforeseen question.

"Yes."

"And if I ask you what are your hopes for the future?"

"Ah! My hopes are that I'll be able to unite people all across the world, so that their hearts will beat as one, to the sound of my music!"

Again, cute gestures, bottom of the barrel answer. In that moment, Haruka Ooshima felt a great annoyance wash again over her. It was like talking to an automated, PR nonsense spouting machine, devoid of any passion or even care for the role of an idol. She lowered her eyes, and grumbled.

Noticing this, Miku took on a more grave expression, imitating a child being chided for something.

"Miss Manager, I seem to have displeased you. Please, tell me what I've done wrong, and I'll make it aaaaalll better!"

She ended this with a positive, hopeful voice and, again, cutely wagged her finger. This, of course, only served to irate the manager in question even more. She got out of her chair in a huff, and went straight for the door.

"No use for an interview anyway, if all she's going to do is repeat this nonsense. We'll meet later today, at dance practice. Is that all right with you?" She glanced back at the technician, who quickly realized this was not the time for arguing. He nodded, and she quickly exited the room. Miku, unaffected by this display, merely stood around and looked at the door. As only one of her administrators remained in her proximity, she turned her attention towards him.

He stared at the door, and then looked at her, deep in though.

"Miku."

"Yes?"

"What you just said – this last apology. Was that part of the IM routine?"

"Only the apology itself. "

He grinned. Miku, you may just be starting to learn.


End file.
